Pain of the Past
by Transformersfan123
Summary: James and Mr. Grasshopper share something in common, but it isn't until a bullying incident at school that they realize it. Can they keep their secret from the others? And more importantly, should they? I mean, they call themselves family, but could they possibly understand? Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Here's a plot that's been bugging me for a while, pun intended of course. Please enjoy!

* * *

Mr. Grasshopper was moving frantically as he sterilized the wound then began sewing it up quickly. It went the down from just below the boy's left shoulder blade across his back and ended in the top muscle of his right buttock. Once Mr. Grasshopper had sewn the last stitch, he relaxed a little bit. He cleaned his hands then carried James into his room, lying him down gently on a towel he'd placed there already. He was about to pull the covers up on the naked boy when he first really saw them.

They were all different shapes and sizes. Some were small and round and shiny. Others were long and jagged, tearing across his skin violently. Yet others were so thin they were almost nonexistent. Mr. Grasshopper didn't know what to think as he stared at him. Scars. They were no doubt from those vicious aunts of his. They might not look like my own, Mr. Grasshopper thought, but they no doubt had hurt just as bad. He was so busy tracing all of James' scars with his eyes that he hadn't seen the boy move. That is, until the boy jolted. Mr. Grasshopper looked up into his frightened eyes.

"James! Are you alright my dear boy?"

"What are you doing?" James demanded, his voice shaking.

"You have quite the wound on your back. I stitched it up for you."

James snatched the blanket from the oversized grasshopper and jerked it up over his head. Mr. Grasshopper was surprised.

"James! Whatever is the matter?"

"Go away!" James snapped, his voice shaky.

Mr. Grasshopper stared at the shivering lump in the bed and ran his mind through the events. He came to a swift conclusion.

"My dearest boy," Mr. Grasshopper said softly, sitting down and placing a hand ever so gently onto what he assumed was the boy's shoulder. "You are afraid because I've seen your scars. Is that it?"

"You're going to tell the others!" James whispered so low it was hard to hear.

"Not if you don't want me to," Mr. Grasshopper assured him. "But Mrs. Ladybug will see them when she doctors your wound."

"You're a doctor, too," James said quickly, pulling the blanket down to his neck, grimacing from the twinges of pain. "Can't you just do it?"

"Mrs. Ladybug will insist."

James looked distressed. Mr. Grasshopper sighed then placed his four hands together. He understood. He really did. Scars meant that one had been hurt, and hurt could be very personal. He didn't want their family to know about his own scars any more than James wanted them to know about _his_. It was actually one of the grasshopper's greatest fears. He stared at James. Could he trust the boy? Yes. Without a doubt. But he wouldn't tell the lad yet.

"Very well. I have a solution. I have a string of concerts around the country. I leave extremely early tomorrow morning, before anybody else is up. I shall bring you with me before they know it and leave a note for them telling them that you got up early and begged and pleaded to come. You will have to be able to feign wellness when you're in public with me for the cameras and such, but I'm sure you can handle that. That way you can heal enough while we're gone that you won't be bedridden when we get back and you can continue on your normal routine. Does that sound good to you?"

James looked thoughtful. "Alright."

"Good, now you had better rest for awhile. When you feel like you can, please pack a small bag. Leave your school things here, bring a book or two if it fits, but if not, we'll get you some out on the road. If you are unable to pack your things, you shall stay here and we shall tell Mrs. Ladybug."

"Thank you, Mr. Grasshopper," James said gratefully.

Mr. Grasshopper strode back into the dining room and cleaned everything up. He set the place settings on the table with the old flowers in the purple glass vase that he'd just pulled from under the sink. After disposing of the glass from the old vase that he had broken in his haste to sew James up, he went into his room and finished packing.

The old green grasshopper then went into the kitchen and started to cook a nice chicken dinner. All of the bugs felt very delighted and amused when they could partake of chicken. That particular bird was a menace to every one of their kinds, so it satisfied some vindictive urge inside of them.

When dinner was made, Mr. Grasshopper took a plate to James, who was dressed and slowly, painstakingly packing his things into a small bag.

"Here you are James. Eat quickly then I suggest you go to bed. We must get up at three tomorrow morning. Besides that, it'll keep you out of the sight of the others, who would notice the impediment in your movements."

"Thank you, Mr. Grasshopper. I really appreciate it." And Mr. Grasshopper could tell he meant it for more than the chicken.

"You are quite welcome James."


	2. Chapter 2

Here you are. Another chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

James was exhausted. He had sat as still as he could in the chair all throughout the concert and now they were back in the hotel room. Mr. Grasshopper had ordered room service and they were eating peaches and ice cream. James appreciated it, but the almost constant pain radiating from his back had him shifting again and again as he tried to find a comfortable position. Mr. Grasshopper finished his peach then wiped his hands and face on the wet towel.

"Would you like me to change your bandages?"

"I think I'd like a hot shower first," James said with a tired smile as he finished his food.

"Very well."

James stripped naked and allowed Mr. Grasshopper to unwind the bandages wrapped around his torso. They had started putting bandages on him to keep the blood that occasionally leaked out from staining the boy's clothes. James stretched painfully then took a long shower. He walked out in a towel and Mr. Grasshopper looked the stitches over. They were holding quite well.

After James dried off thoroughly, Mr. Grasshopper put fresh bandages on the boy. The wound was looking better. Much better. But it was still rather painful for the poor lad. He had trouble sitting still and, though moving was getting easier, long periods of it just exhausted him. James yawned again.

"I'm ready for bed. Good night Mr. Grasshopper."

"Good night James. Try to sleep well."

"I will."

After taking a shower, Mr. Grasshopper slipped into bed. The lights were shut off and they both fell asleep. They slept in late, having nowhere to be until that evening. Mr. Grasshopper awoke to see James sitting at the desk in the corner of the room writing. The boy hadn't put on a shirt the night before, and the white bandages stood out against his skin. The pale scars stood out as well as Mr. Grasshopper approached him.

"Good morning, my dear boy. How are you today?"

"In a little less pain," James replied, turning to smile.

"Might I ask what you are working on? You seem to be writing quite a bit on this trip."

James shielded the paper from the insect's view. "Something."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Mr. Grasshopper said quickly. "I was just curious."

James paused for a few moments. "Well…it's about what my aunts used to do to me."

Mr. Grasshopper's stomach tightened. "Oh, I see. Am I allowed to read it?"

"Not right now. Maybe not ever. It's not good."

"I wouldn't expect it to be." Mr. Grasshopper paused. "You know James, my parents weren't the kindest creatures either. Their tempers and displeasure at what I was left their marks on me as well."

James looked confused. "But you're an insect. You have an exoskeleton. You can't get scars…can you?"

Mr. Grasshopper hesitated then slowly stripped his shirt off. James' eyes were immediately drawn to areas of his friend's hard exterior that didn't look so hard. He stood and reached up for one of them. The insect stopped his hand.

"Do be careful James. It is delicate compared to the rest of me and can be ripped open again."

James nodded and lightly touched it. It was leathery, and James dragged his hand across it, stopping where the hard shell that surrounded the grasshopper started again.

"What happened?"

"They beat me so hard that they broke through my exoskeleton. I do believe I still have some pieces lodged in my organs."

James looked upset. "I didn't know that was even possible."

"I shouldn't be alive, quite honestly. Most insects that have abusive parents don't survive."

"Why not? Are they that violent?"

"They are violent, but when the exoskeleton is broken, our insides are exposed. Germs can infiltrate our bodies. The most likely thing to happen, though, is that we will be eaten. The scent of our openness is quite potent and very strong. I am one of the lucky few to survive. This skin-like material grew over my wounds after a while and I can function just as well as I used to."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore. I barely even notice it. But just like you, I don't want the rest of the insects to know what I went through. I fear they would pity me and treat me differently."

"I know what you mean," James said with a smile.

"So may I read your writings?"

James hesitated. "Well, I have some in my bag that are finished…" He trailed off, thinking. "If you promise to write down some of what happened to you and let me read it, then you can read mine."

Mr. Grasshopper hummed. "Very well. I shall begin soon."

James got into his bag and rifled through a stack of papers. He handed two sheets to the grasshopper, who sat down on his bed and began to read. He was disgusted at the story the words on the pages told him. It was a story of violence and blood, pain and sorrow. The insect found himself in tears by the end of it. For that to happen to such a sweet, caring boy hurt. Badly. It also reminded him of his own parents. James was watching him quietly, his face blank.

"I'm terribly sorry this happened to you, James," Mr. Grasshopper said, wiping his eyes.

"I can't change it."

"I know. But if it were possible, I'm sure we both would change what happened to us."

"I would stop the beatings, and the knives, and the burning, but…I would never, ever change meeting you and the others."

"I wouldn't change that either. Although," Mr. Grasshopper said, smirking. "There is Mr. Centipede…"

"Mr. Grasshopper!" James laughed.

"I am only jesting, James," the old green grasshopper assured the boy. "But he is a pain sometimes."

"I'm sure he could say the same thing about you."

"Indeed."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. James turned after a few moments and began writing again. Mr. Grasshopper hesitated.

"May I read more?"

"If you want. Just keep the individual stories together."

"Of course, my dear boy."

Mr. Grasshopper spent the rest of the morning reading the boy's stories while James wrote. They were both so engrossed in what they were doing that it was only the rumble of James' stomach around noon that interrupted them.

"Hungry?" Mr. Grasshopper asked.

"Yes," James admitted. "You?"

"Quite. What say we go out for lunch, eh?"

"That sounds wonderful."


	3. Chapter 3

Here's a short one, but I think it's good.

* * *

Three days later, Mr. Grasshopper had to give the boy him props for courage. He held three pages in his top right hand. All he had to do was hand them to James. But he found himself frozen. He was afraid to let anybody know what his parents had done to him. Even James. But he had promised so he tapped the boy on the shoulder.

"Here you are, James," the grasshopper said, his voice trembling slightly. "Like I promised."

James took the papers and smiled. "Thank you."

Mr. Grasshopper went and sat on the bed, playing with his hands and staring at the floor. James read slowly and when he was done, he was very still. Mr. Grasshopper held his breath.

"It sounds horrible," James finally said. "I'm sorry you went through it."

"It has shaped my life," the grasshopper admitted. "But it doesn't dominate it."

"I'm glad." He paused. "It's nice to be able to talk about this with somebody."

"Indeed. All my siblings died when I was young, and before the next generation was born, I ran away to the hill. Luckily, I was found by a few crocodile tongues and had a lovely ride in a giant peach with a wonderful boy name James." There was another pause. "You know, James, we go home in a week. How are you feeling, back wise?"

"It hurts still, but I can feign wellness enough that they won't know," James said. "I'll just sit a lot."

"Good. Good. James, just to be clear…you can't tell the others about my scars, or my abuse. I won't tell them about yours, either, but…" Mr. Grasshopper looked away, trying to keep his composure.

James stood and embraced him. "I won't. We'll keep each other's secrets. I promise."

Mr. Grasshopper weighed his next word carefully. "If you ever have the misfortune of having your secret revealed, I shall gather my courage and show them mine, that way you needn't be alone. You are under no obligation to do the same for me."

James smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Grasshopper. I appreciate it."

"Good. Now, let's order some food, yes?"

"Mm, can we try the fish?"

"Certainly!"


	4. Chapter 4

Here is the final chapter. :) I can't be mean to Jojo any longer!

* * *

Mr. Grasshopper silently watched James, who was sitting in the chair. The look on the boy's face told him everything. The others weren't here yet, so the insect quickly knelt down and spoke in a low voice.

"James? What happened?"

"I…I turned in the wrong papers," James answered brokenly.

"Oh my. Why did you have a story like that in school?" He kept his voice ever so gentle, knowing the boy was going through hell.

"I just…wanted to finish it. I haven't had time too work on it for days." James covered his face and began to cry.

"James!" Miss Spider gasped as she came in, hurrying forward. "Whatever is the matter?"

He cringed away from her hands. She gasped, but lowered her arms. He didn't acknowledge Mr. Centipede's joyful greeting. Mr. Earthworm and Mrs. Ladybug were busy, and the Glowworm never did these sorts of things. They were escorted into the office. The principal worsened James' state of mind by reading a brutal excerpt of what he'd written. Miss Spider and Mr. Centipede were floored. Mr. Grasshopper's expression remained neutral. To be honest, it was one of James' tamer stories. It wasn't as bad as the ones with the knives or the heated fire pokers. Or even the ones with the cigarettes.

The principal handed the papers to Miss Spider. "Everybody knows about his aunts, but such brutality is unimaginable. I know we can't change what happened, and I'm sorry it did happen to him, but it is unacceptable that he have these here. I just want him to keep these sorts of stories at home, and not in school. The other students don't need to be exposed to this."

"It is completely understandable," Miss Spider said with a nod. "We shall be sure to talk to James."

Mr. Grasshopper saw his opportunity and grabbed James. By the time that Miss Spider and Mr. Centipede had shaken the principal's hand and turned to get them, they were already gone.

James and Mr. Grasshopper walked the streets and the insect bought two perfectly ripe peaches, handing one to James. It had become their thing to eat a peach when James got home from school. They ate slowly and didn't talk. They finished by the time they'd gotten to the park. Mr. Grasshopper washed his hands then allowed James to hop in the shower. The grasshopper began to make dinner. The Glowworm came in.

"What's going on, dearie?" she asked loudly.

"Making steak!" Mr. Grasshopper shouted.

"Where's James? Miss Spider said he was in trouble!"

"He's in the shower!"

"Why did you leave?!" Miss Spider spat as she hurried in with the others.

"James was clearly uncomfortable, so I took him for a nice walk," Mr. Grasshopper said calmly, turning back to his task.

"Ya didn't really look surprised like we did," Mr. Centipede growled.

"I wasn't," Mr. Grasshopper said quietly. "He's shown me his stories before. I was surprised that he got caught at school with one. He's usually so careful with those."

"And you didn't think it would be worth telling us?" Mr. Earthworm demanded, his glasses looking as angry as his voice sounded.

"He asked me not to!" Mr. Grasshopper said defensively.

"That's ridiculous! You should have told us!" Miss Spider shouted.

Mr. Grasshopper flinched as they all began yelling. He stayed silent and continued making supper. A flash of purple caught his eye and he turned to see James wrapped in a huge towel. He met his eyes and slightly loosened the towel. Mr. Grasshopper stared for a minute then spoke.

"James? Is something wrong?" he asked, knowing what James was about to do.

Everybody turned and the towel dropped. _'That's certainly one way to get it over with quick,'_ Mr. Grasshopper thought as he turned back to the stove. He swallowed, remembering his promise. Mrs. Ladybug was fussing desperately over James, but suddenly everything went quiet. Mr. Grasshopper turned and looked over to see them staring at James' back.

"This isn't from too far back," Mrs. Ladybug said softly. "What happened?"

"I…I was pushed down some stairs," James said quietly. "There was a metal pipe sticking out. Mr. Grasshopper sewed me up."

"You…you?!" Mrs. Ladybug stammered. "That's why you took him with you to your concerts!"

"Yes," Mr. Grasshopper said simply. Mr. Centipede shoved the green insect, who gasped and doubled over.

"Mr. Centipede! Don't blame him!" James said, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his waist. "I didn't want you to see my…the marks," he muttered.

"Aw, Jimmy," Mr. Centipede said softly. "We don't care about no marks. You're our Jimmy anyways."

James smiled then froze. Red stained Mr. Grasshopper's shirt. That meant…

"Mr. Grasshopper!"

The poor frightened insect shoved past everybody and hurried into his room. He didn't come out for supper, too busy trying to stop the bleeding, which was hard to do past his tears. He ignored every knock on his door, not even letting James in. When he figured they were all asleep, he quietly left his room to get food. He jumped badly when a hand touched his lower left arm. Spinning around, he was slightly afraid to see Mr. Centipede.

"Hey, I didn't mean ta hurt ya," he said quietly.

"I…I'm fine."

"Jimmy said that you have your own scars, but don't be mad at him. We practically tore it out of him."

"Yes…well…" Mr. Grasshopper muttered.

"I saved some dinner for ya. It's in the oven."

"Oh…Thank you, Mr. Centipede. That's very kind of you."

"Can…can I see 'em? I don't really know how it's possible, and I'm sorta curious."

The green bug blinked at him then slowly removed his shirt. The most obvious one had a nice sized hole it. The centipede frowned.

"Jimmy said they were covered."

"You punctured it," Mr. Grasshopper said tightly.

"Oh. I-I'm sorry."

They stared at each other for a few minutes then Mr. Grasshopper turned and retrieved his dinner. Mr. Centipede sat with him at the table.

"Ya know, ya shouldn't be embarrassed about them. And ya shouldn't've hidden them from us. We don't give a damn about scars. You're still our friend."

"I just don't want to remember," Mr. Grasshopper sighed, playing with his food. "My parents were terrible. Like I told James, they killed all of my siblings. I am the only one left."

"My parents yelled at me a lot. They neva hit me, but they yelled." Mr. Centipede's voice deepened and got the twang of an English accent. "'You need to settle down with a nice female and stop playing around with them! And stop talking like that! You sound like a bloody American."

"Why do you talk like that?" Mr. Grasshopper asked curiously as he began to eat. "I'm assuming from your comment that you were raised in England."

"Eh, where I grew up, there was a boy who liked to play with me. He had a Brooklyn accent and I liked it, so I imitated it as well I could. Poor kid got sick with the flu and didn't recover. He was about James' age."

"How did you come to the hill?"

"I was exploring and got stuck under the house when his aunts came out. I'm…afraid of the dark and couldn't see very well at night to get out. What about you?"

"I just had to get away from all the others. They pitied me because of the abuse I took. I settled in a spot that felt as desolate as I did."

"Ah."

There was a lull in the conversation in which Mr. Grasshopper finished his food. He stood and cleaned the dishes, putting them away when he was done.

Mr. Centipede caught one of his arms and looked deadly serious.

"I meant what I said about ya not needin' ta feel bad about them. We won't make fun of ya. We're here for ya. Even me."

Mr. Grasshopper was hesitant then sighed. "Thank you, Mr. Centipede. Even if we don't always get along, I'm glad to know you."

"Right back at ya. Night."

"Good night."

Mr. Grasshopper went back to his room and settled into bed. Though he was distinctly uncomfortable what with the hold in his exoskeleton, he felt strangely peaceful. He smiled to himself as he thought of his friends. They really didn't care. He slowly fell asleep, determined to let Mrs. Ladybug look at it tomorrow. Hopefully she could suggest something to speed the healing. But if she couldn't, his friends were enough. More than enough.


End file.
